The Sponsor
by TypicalIndianTennisPlayer
Summary: What exactly leads a sponsor to take a tribute? What happens after that? Do they meet? Let's examine one story of a Victor who is pretty famous.
1. Red's POV

**What does a sponsor think when they see a tribute? A rather… interesting two –shot, one from Red's perspective… one from Cashmere's. **

**FInnick's Mockingjay description of the Victors' treatments made me think. Did anyone else suffer like this? **

**It's rated T for a reason. Language, and some suggestive material… but NO LEMONS.**

**I do not own the Hunger Games.**

He exits the door and pops on over to check the mail. His step-mother always tells him not to, but hey, there could be a love letter just out there waiting for him. After all, he's nineteen and he's probably the most eligible bachelor in town. At least that's what his step-mom tells him.

All that's there are bills, bills, and oh lovely, more bills. The only thing worthy of mentioning is the annual Hunger Games catalogue that features all of this year's tributes.

It's been sixty three years since the Games have started. Apparently his grandfather was on the council of whether the Games are able to be played or not. He tells him that grand-daddy voted no, but that's a load of Bull-crap. Everyone, at least in the Capitol, knows that the Hunger Games were unanimously decided by all twenty members of the President's council. Even he knew this, even though he barely passed history, with a solid D+.

He would have thrown the catalogue out. But something there caught his eye. It was the District One girl tribute. Her name was Cashmere. Cashmere Calcite. It was a fairly interesting name. Rolled off the tongue nicely, he decided. It said that she was sixteen precisely, and the sister of this year pat's Victor, Gloss. Stupid dunder-headed boy, but he had to give it to him. His sister was as hot as hell. And he liked it. A lot. And, she was just three years younger than he was himself. Nothing like him being a pedophile or anything. It was just a little crush…. But an idea began to formulate in his head.

"Mom," he shouted. "How much money is in my savings account?"

"Why dear?" She replies.

"I wanna sponsor a tribute." He say nonchalantly. He, well… his family, given that he was only six at the time of the Games, has sponsored one before. Haymitch Abernathy. And he won. So he thinks correction. He knows mom would be more than okay with this.

"Well, honey, if we add up all of the gift money grandmamma gave you, your soccer sponsorship money, and the money from Uncle Ludo's will… umm…. er… Fifteen million Circenses." His mom says to him, calculator in hand, pen in the other.

He ponders this fact. Three years. She has one hell of a body. His mothers told him in the strictest confidence that the privileges sponsors sponsoring Victors can get. And if you have a name in the Capitol, you can just reserve a Victor for you, yourself and, well…. You. He decided to take the risk.

"Mom, Gabby," he states, addressing his mom and step-mom. "Imma sponsor Cashmere Calcite."

They looked at him. "Do we have to pay?" Gabby asks with an expression of malice. _Jealousy._

"No." He emphasizes. "I'll pay for it. And consider it a gift cuz I'm so generous. I'll split my winnings with the pair of you."

They exchange a glance. "All right, son." His Mom says.

* * *

He meets with her mentor, a youngish looking guy whose name is Glitter. A rather gay looking guy with an equally gay sounding name. But his tribute is hot as hell. And despite the hardships, he's willing to cope with it.

Training goes by well. Cashmere gets a solid ten. It's just then he realizes that she's hot AND deadly. He knows right then and there that he did make the right decision in picking her.

She puts on an interview angle of flirtatious. He imagines her at his house… god. How enchanting. He knows again that he made a very, _very_, good decision.

The Games start. She makes a fairly decent amount of kills, two, to be exact. She teams up with her district partner and the tributes from 2 and 4. Why do those districts always end up winning? Beats him and his moms. But whatever.

It's not long into the games where the alliance turns on itself. Her mentor and him both send out a steady flow of gifts.

Before he realizes it, it's down to Cashmere and District Two. They fight for hours, both getting seemingly fatal injuries. It's now down to whoever can hang on the longest.

The cannon fires.

He dares not to look up.

When he finally does he sees his wish.

The crown now belongs to Cashmere.

* * *

It's been seven months. The President accepted his claim on Cashmere, Cash, he decided he'd call her, but requested that he wait after the Tour so that he may inform her of what was to happen.

The door of his bedroom, rather the hotel room, opens. She enters.

"So you're my Head Sponsor." She deadpans. "I'm supposed to thank you." She states… with eyes filled with malice. He didn't think he looked that bad.

"Yup." He says as flirtatiously as possible. "And I am all yours."

There's an awkward silence.

"Why don't we have a drink?" he asks. Anything the avoid the awkward silence.

After the drinks, they chat aimlessly. Of Snow, of life in district One, of peacekeepers, of gossip. He does most of the talking, she just listens. But after that they get down to business.

In the morning, the room is a mess. Clothes strewn everywhere, a few broken bottles of champagne lie on the floor, and… stuff is just everywhere. They didn't even sleep a wink… they were just so busy.

And it was worth every penny.

She goes to freshen up, while he just lies there…exhilarated. He just had the time of his life.

He sorta, kinda, maybe feels guilty, but hey. It's not his fault the districts were greedy for more power. They never had to revolt. Like his granddaddy used to say, "We're the innocent party. Not _them."_ He spoke with so much contempt in his voice that it was hard not to hate them as well.

It was well worth it.

* * *

They meet up frequently. He enjoys chatting with her, but he likes her somewhere else better, if you get what he means. He can't do that anymore, as she is needed in District One. That's now one more reason he likes the Games. Her. And to think he thought of it as a crush. Hell, no. He loves her, and makes up her mind to tell her next time she's in town.

These exchanges go on for quite some time. He likes them, and he knows she likes it too. He sometimes wonders if Snow had her or her family threatened or something like that, but he knew Snow wouldn't stoop that low. And even if he did, it was none of his business. He was perfectly happy with where he was…_is _now. Alive, that is.

During the games, when Cashmere's free, they make plans to meet up. He has the most expensive cologne and tux, and tells his Avox to hand-deliver to her the most seductive outfit his mom could buy. They meet at the most expensive hotel in Panem, the Burj-al-Panem. It's the best hotel though, and he wants everything to be perfect.

She arrives to the room in the glimmering, short, revealing, cocktail dress, hand stiched out of gold, to match her hair, and green to match her eyes. She looks stunning. _Man, Cash, how hard are you going to make this,_ he thinks.

When he tries to speak, she silences him with a kiss. A sultry one. But there's a problem. She's distracted. He looks up at her. In her eyes, he can see only one expression. Fear. He turns around. And he screams.

Three men, heavily armed, aim punches at him. He screams, it's so painful. It aches. And it hurts.

It seems to go on forever. And then, finally, he can see his life before his eyes. His moms, granddaddy, the last few months with Cashmere.

Suddenly, he realizes one thing. He never did regret anything that went wrong in his life.

And with that realization, everything goes bright, then black.

**

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	2. Cashmere's POV

**Now for the Tribute part of the story. This is told from Cashmere's POV, and I don't wanna write about the Games, so I'll start from after the tour, in the Capitol.**

**I know that over fifty of you read it. So Pretty please :)) drop me a review so that I can improve on future stories!**

Haymitch's words had stayed with me for the remainder of my tour.

"_He'll or even she'll use you. President Snow got a lot of money from them, and if you refuse, they'll kill your family and friends." He whispered._

"_How do you know?" I whispered back."_

"_Why do you think my girl died?" he whispers back, contempt rising in his voice. "They, the Peacekeepers, came….and…and _stabbed_ her. On my bed. And they never ….came to remove the sheets of my bedroom. They sit there. Bloody, to remind me." He shudders, only a single tear falling down his cheeks. "At least my family died in their sleep. Painlessly. I had to watch Julia, my poor Julia…" Tears fell from his eyes rapidly._

"_Why… why didn't they just… kill you?" I asked, stunned._

"_I am a …reminder… to all…the Victors, that is." He looks at me…to see if I am following. "I was kept alive to remind everyone not to fight _him_. Because in the end, _he's _gonna win"_

I am in the Capitol. The City of Lights, as Gloss and I refer to it back home. The place where the people don't give a damn of what happens to anyone. So bloody selfish, it disgusts me.

All these parties, they aren't bad at all. I used to attend several parties back home. But these parties are… something else altogether. The men and women are crazy here, never caring if they have to eat tomorrow… such a change from the rest of the districts.

As I wake up, I am given a note.

_Cashmere,_

_Congratulations for winning the Games! I hope your tour has proceeded without any issues. Please meet me at my study right before your Interview with Caesar Flickermann at four precisely. _

_C. Snow_

As the prep team continue to irritate me with some chatter on how "Cashmere is such a privileged Victor" and "meeting Snow is such an honor" and my favorite… "Show him some skin, babe… I'm sure he'll give you what you want," I wonder who my first sponsor was. Who he'll "set me up" with.

My first… time… happened with Ember Galloway, two months before the Games. We had made a pact at the age of seven that if we were still virgins after age 15, we'd give our virginities to each other. I had no leisure time, what with my training and all, and he was busy learning the diamond trade, so we did it. And since I really like him now and it's better than any Capitolian… no regrets.

At 3:50, I make my way up to President Snow's study. "Enter." I hear. I enter.

The most notable thing of his room is the sheer number of roses. There are at least ten thousand roses. I take one particularly beautiful looking red rose and delicately sniff it, "And that's why all of the Capitol has fallen in love with you." And right then and there I know I am meeting our dear friend Snow.

He's small, with overly puffed lips that are bright red. They look really weird and…well, an embarrassment to most people I know back home. We do have some alteration centers, only in the more higher-class districts, like 1, 2, and 4, and nobody ever goes there.

"Please, take a seat, my sweet." He says with an oily voice. I have no choice but to comply. All I can think of is how I should have asked Kenton for his tweezers. I feel uncomfortable without anything sharp.

"Now, my love. You do know that you are very well loved in our Capitol." He begins. "You are not even that bad looking. So all our sponsors… one in particular, want to thank you face-to-face."

I swallowed hard. This was it. "So, you want me to just have, like dinner with them?" I asked, hopefully coming off as naïve.

Surprisingly, that man laughs. "You and I both know it's more than that." He says with a devilish grin.

"And…. If I refuse?" I ask, my voice at whisper now.

"Your brother… Gloss? You do know I can easily finish him off right?"

A direct threat. Well, better than anything indirect. "Okay. I'll do it." I say, my voice surprisingly steady.

"Good. Here's your sponsor. Red McCaullkin." He hands me an envelope with the address and a picture. Red. Weird name. He looks almost my age. Decent Capitolian looking. And he's so ripped. Not bad.

Oh, hell, who am I kidding? Its yucky and gross. Ughhh….

I don't even pay attention to anything after that. My Victory Interview was tasteless, and I didn't even eat anything at _MY OWN PARTY! _

I hate Snow. And not the white, watery kind.

An attendant comes out. "Miss Cashmere, follow me." He gestures to a room.

I follow. _This is it _becomes my mantra. My heart is thumping at a speed I once thought to be impossible and I am now terrified.

I enter the hotel room. "So you're my Head Sponsor." I say, with as little emotion as possible. "And I'm supposed to thank you." Nice amount of sarcasm dripping there.

"Yup." He says… flirtatiously. "And…I am all yours."

_Ugh._ I think to myself. It's then that I scan him over. He doesn't look like the Prep Team. He has ordinary features, but you can tell that his features are enhanced. His abs are more well-defined and shaped than anyone back home. His eyes are a majestic shade of blue, like the color of sapphires. His whole face looks like a male model.

"Why don't we have a drink?" he asks.

It's right then I realize something. This guy looks like some type of top class Capitolian. He may have some secrets waiting to be exposed. Se hey, I can whittle some out of him.

He calls me Cash. That's what Ember and Gloss call me now and Mom used to call me. Now that nickname is defiled forever.

He blabbers almost his whole autobiography to me. It's weird and fascinating at the same time. He has two moms and no dad. But then how did the baby…

Never mind.

The only time I talk is about District One. How life is like there. And it's extremely different from the Capitol.

He has no intention to talk, so we start to make out. I try and kiss with little passion as possible. It begins to get much more intimate, and before I know it, I am lying on the bed. And he's doing horrible, horrible things to me. Things that I never dreamt possible. And he mistakes my screams of pain for pleasure, and goes harder.

In the morning, I excuse myself to the restroom. And I take one good look at my face. All I can see now is revulsion and regret. I don't want this. I'd rather have let District Two win. I want to die. Or at least, kill him.

* * *

He calls my phone many, many times. I put on an expression of a deprieved lover, while I still cannot sleep in the night without this feeling of disgust for myself, Red, and the Capitol.

Suddenly, I want to rebel. Make sure Snow dies as painfully as possible in front of a whole crowd of Capitolians. But since Red is his puppet, I have to settle for him. And while it may get me killed in the act, at least everyone would remember me as a hero, not a whore.

So my brain hatches a plan.

Since I am from the Capitol's second favorite district, and my position with Red, my phone calls are never intruded on. So I call up Karim, our escort, and ask him to hook me up with his bodyguard. I ask the bodyguard if he knows any hit men. And you all can see where I am going with this.

Since I am in the Capitol for the Games, I am forced to meet up with Red. But tonight, we meet at some fancy Capitol hotel whose name I cannot even pronounce. An Avox delivers to me the most revealing cocktail dress, with gold and diamonds and emeralds. The tag hasn't been ripped out so I look at it. But even the most seductive dress costing two hundred thousand Circenses won't bring me down. I am so giddy tonight.

I enter the room. And when he tries to speak, I cut him off with the most sultry kiss I can muster. But as I see three armed men. _Dammit guys, you came too early! _But no matter.

As they beat him, and as he cries for mercy, I wonder if I made him a piece in my own personal Games. But I shake it from my mind. Whatever. He deserved it.

We make sure he's dead. And we leave the room.

* * *

I know Snow found out about it. I spend nights racked with fear with the essence of guilt. But as time goes on, I ignore it.

I pass on the trade secrets to Finnick Odair, who wins one or two years later and they become friends. I act more like a mother to him, or a really protective sister, because being a mom is Mag's job.

Ten to Twelve years pass. My dream of rebellion comes true. The year prior, two district Twelve kids threatened suicide in order to survive. I was more fascinated with the fact that both of them wouldn't be tortured like I was, but hey, I had a lot of fun with Red.

Kinda.

Snow declares on the third Quell that the Victors go back in. This is to punish me. And Katniss. And Peeta. And Brutus and Enobaria for training illegally. To punish the district ten dude for shooting his tribute in the leg, (I coaxed it out of him; he wanted to rebel too, but it failed).

Wow. Hitting many Mockingjays with one Hunger Games.

But all I can think of is, at least I would take a Capitolian down with me.


End file.
